Witch Song Page 4

  “Filthy Witch!” he cursed her. Bruke snarled and snapped at Wardof’s cheek. Blood shone in the moonlight.

  Her scalp on fire, Brusenna collapsed on the ground and sat there dumbly. If not for Bruke, they would have taken her in her sleep. He’d saved her. She shivered. Rubbing her arms, she suddenly realized she wore nothing but her sleeveless shift. And it was freezing. Self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “You said it would be easy money,” Garg whined loudly.

  “Keep your tongue!” Wardof snapped.

  “I don’t understand.” she said.

  Wardof fixed his hateful gaze on her. “I’m a Witch Hunter, girl!”

  A shaky, uncontrollable laugh erupted from her mouth. At first, it sounded more like a cough, but then she took a deep breath and let it free.

  “What? What’s she laughin’ for, Wardof?”

  Brusenna held her sides. “Not a very good one!”

  That bought her a string of the most creative and vehement expletives she’d ever heard. When he’d caught his breath, Wardof said, “If not for that blasted dog, I’d have caught you in your sleep, or at very least inside that house! Lot harder to sing with a gag over your mouth! Next time, I’ll—”

  With a sigh, she ordered the corn over their mouths, too. Only their noses showed, their breathing making sharp, wheezing sounds as they struggled to draw air through the small openings she’d left them. “Thank you, Sisters,” she sang to the corn.

  Watching the men’s pitiful struggle to free themselves from their cocoons of corn, Brusenna realized she had complete control. The realization left her awed and a little overwhelmed. But what did she do now? Thinking hard, she realized someone had sent these men after her. Only two people knew she was in Gonstower. And one of them was her mother. The other was Coyel. With a sinking feeling, she rose to her feet. “Bruke, come.”

  The dog shot her a pleading look.

  “Bruke,” she said sternly.

  He whined and came to her. Burying her hands into his wiry hair, she took a deep breath and sang the corn back from their heads. “If you don’t answer me, I’ll wrap you back up and leave you.” She nodded to Bruke. “I’m sure he’d love to have you alone.” Garg and Wardof shot looks of concern Bruke’s way.

  “Ask us what?” Garg said.

  Her mouth went dry. Ask them what, indeed. Brusenna knew just enough to understand how painfully ignorant she really was. Still, best not to let them in on that. “Tell me everything. Leave anything out and you’ll be Bruke’s next meal.”

  Wardof clamped his handsome mouth shut. Garg was not so inclined. “Come on, Wardof.”

  Wardof shot Garg a look of disgust. “Clamp it you, or I’ll—”

  “What! What are you gonna do? Tied up in corn like an overripe ear, you are!” He shifted in his sack. “I’ll tell you everything I know, Witch, if you’ll let me go.”

  “Traitorous lee—” Wardof began.

  Brusenna sang and the corn wrapped tightly over Wardof’s nose and mouth. Over his muffled cursing, she considered Garg. He was clearly terrified of her—even more so than the dangerous man at his side. The realization shocked her. “I guess that depends on what you tell me.”

  Garg shot an anxious look Wardof’s way before swallowing hard. “He came into town a few months ago. Met him over drinks, I did. Said he wanted to know if there was any Witches hereabouts. ’Course I told him of you and your ma. Got all interested. Said there was money in it for me if’n I help him. ’Course times been tight with the famine and all.” He shot a look of contempt at her corn.

  “Don’t know how you managed to grow all this like you have,” he muttered, squirming uncomfortably in its bonds. “So I helped him run the merchant you use outta business. He set up shop and waited for you whilst I rounded up some local boys to harass you.”

  “Local boys … Oh!” She hugged herself tightly. “You sent Corwood to … do that to me?”

  He cleared his throat awkwardly. “They was just supposed to scare you. I swear it on my father’s land and my firstborn’s head—even though she’s only a girl.” At the look on her face, he tried to wriggle away from her. “I’m an honest man! It’s just times been tough and all. I needed the money. What with a wife ‘n kids ‘n all. I wouldn’t of let ’em hurt ya!”

  She straightened her shoulders as her anger rose. “Scare me? Why?”

  He jerked his head in Wardof’s direction. “He wanted to make sure you was one. Said when Witches get cornered, even the most careful will take to chantin’.” He chuckled. “You scared them boys good.”

  So it had been a trap and she’d played right into it. “What exactly were you going to do with me?”

  He shrugged. “Wardof didn’t say and I didn’t ask. I didn’t know about the knife until after. I swear I didn’t!”

  Brusenna felt certain Garg was lying—at least about some of it. The man was coward enough to lie his way to freedom. But Wardof … she’d seen murder in his eyes. A Witch Hunter. Whatever he wanted her for, it wasn’t pleasant.

  But what to do with the two of them? She couldn’t kill them, though she had to admit a part of her wanted to, and she couldn’t leave them here to die of exposure. She pursed her lips in frustration. She needed help. But who would help a Witch?

  Then she remembered. Sheriff Tomack. Her mother had said she could trust him. And he’d helped her once; perhaps he might do so again? But did she dare leave these two alone that long? What if they escaped? If only she could contact Tomack without leaving them. Her gaze snapped to Garg. A plan took shape in her head.

  Kneeling next to him, she studied him until he was sweating and squirming like a boy with a pocketful of stolen candy. She kept her voice soft, for she’d learned from her mother that mildness felt like snow shoved down one’s back on a winter’s day. “Here’s what you’re going to do, Garg. You’re going to the village to tell Sheriff Tomack this man threatened to do me harm, and you followed him here. He tried to hurt me, and you stopped him. He’ll haul him off to jail, and it will be in your best interest to make sure he stays there.”

  Wardof pitched about and yowled like a cat in a bag, muffling indistinguishable threats and cursing. “You’ll be the hero. Or…” she paused for effect … “I’ll leave you tied up and get the authorities myself. Then you can do your time in the cell with Wardof. Though it seems to me he’d make a pretty rough cell mate.”

  Garg looked at Wardof, struggling like a madman, and then back at the mild-mannered Witch. “You won’t curse me?”

  Brusenna swallowed her laugh and leaned in close. “If you don’t do this, nothing will ever grow in your soil again. I’ll personally see to that.”

  Her threat had the desired effect. Garg’s eyes widened in horror. He licked his dry lips. “All right. I’ll do it. But you better make it clear I’ve never had dealins with you before. I’m a man of status. Can’t be philanderin’ around with Witches.”

  Brusenna stood and brushed the dirt from her shift. “Man of status, my eye,” she muttered under her breath. “Dirty low-life thief is what you are. A drunkard too, by the looks of you.”

  He squinted at her. “Huh? What’d you say?”

  Brusenna smiled with false sweetness. “I’m going to release you now. If you’re not back with the sheriff by morning, I’ll put a curse on your land forever.” She sang the song to release him.

  Garg scrambled to his feet. “How’m I to bring ’em here? No one but Wardof’s ever been able to find you and then only ’cause he had the other half a that necklace.”

  An unprecedented amount of pitching erupted beside from the corn cob that was Wardof.

  Finally, a bit of useful information. She pointed at Garg. “Hold him.” The dog went into a crouch, his muscles coiled to spring. Garg swallowed hard and held perfectly still.

  Brusenna sang the corn back, revealing pinpoints of hate emanating from Wardof’s eyes. She shivered uncontrollably. “What does the necklace do?”

&nb
sp; “Witch!” he said it like it was the vilest insult imaginable.

  She sat on her heels next to him. “Answer me or I’ll leave you here. The plants won’t weaken. You’ll die within days.”

  “Don’t threaten something you can’t finish, Witch.”

  The courage that had taken Brusenna over earlier waned under his blazing hatred. Could she? Could she really leave this man to die? But looking into his eyes, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. And if she let him go, he’d do just that. For long moments, she searched herself. What she found surprised her. A hard lump of brutality that fed off the mistreatments she’d endured her entire life. Its ferocity frightened her. “Yes, I can finish it.”

  For the first time, her words seemed to affect Wardof. His eyes widened in shock and he looked to Garg for help.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” she said. “I bet Garg wants nothing more than to pretend this didn’t happen. If you don’t tell me, he might.”

  “Every piece of information you collect from me will cost you.”

  Brusenna shrugged. “You’ll kill me regardless … if you get the chance.”

  For the first time, Wardof stopped fighting his bonds. “The necklace comes in pairs. One half leads to the other. It’s the fastest way to find a Witch lair.”

  “Where’s the other half?”

  Wardof’s mouth hardened, but Brusenna saw Garg’s eyes flick toward Wardof’s pocket. When she reached for it, Wardof bucked and twisted. With help from Bruke, she managed to pin him down. Recognizing her, the corn shifted away. Trying not to think about how thin the fabric was that separated her skin from his, she reached inside and withdrew another pendant. This one wasn’t a crescent moon like the one Brusenna had in the money box, but a waning gibbous moon. The two together would make a full moon.

  All the breath left her body.

  The sign of the Witches.

  Trembling, she rounded on Wardof. “These necklaces were made by Witches. Where’d you get them?”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “From the first Witch I captured.” How many had there been? Had her mother been one of them? She tossed the gibbous necklace to Garg. “Use that to make your way back. Be here by morning.”

  “I swear you’ll die a most unpleasant death if you take that!” Wardof screeched. “Garg, take her!”

  “She’ll send the dog after me, Wardof,” Garg whined.

  “That pair is worth more than your village makes in a year!” Wardof threatened Garg.

  “One more word,” she said calmly, “and I’ll only leave you one nostril to breathe through.”

  He clamped his mouth shut, but his eyes shot daggers her way.

  Garg turned and ran like a mouse released from a cat’s mouth.

  Turning her back to Wardof, Brusenna asked, “Why do you hunt me?”

  She heard the corn squeak as he settled back. “I’ll wait for my captors. I’ll escape and then I’ll kill you.”

  Fear. Brusenna tasted it in her mouth, felt it coursing in her veins. Somehow, she managed to conceal the terror from her voice. “Then you might as well tell me. Sounds like the knowledge won’t be with me long.”

  He grunted, pleased with himself. He clearly wanted to frighten her. Wanted her to be terrified of him. “The Dark Witch has captured all the others. She sent me to chase after a rumor. That rumor turned out to be you.”

  Brusenna felt the blood pounding in her temples. She turned away so he couldn’t see her face. “Captured?”

  “Yes, captured. Are you deaf as well as ignorant? She captured the last of them days ago. But it was rumored one of the Witches had a daughter, so she sent me to make sure. It won’t be long until she realizes I’ve been caught. Then she’ll set me free. No matter where you go, we’ll find you and you’ll join your Keepers!”

  Brusenna couldn’t bear to hear any more. She sang the corn back over his mouth and stumbled back to her house. Mother and Coyel? Whatever they’d intended to do, they’d failed. The Dark Witch had captured them.

  Could she really be the only Witch left?

  Trudging up the stairs to her room, Brusenna sank to the floor, buried her face in her quilt and sobbed. When all her tears were spent, she slowly stood. Something had to be done. But what?

  Then she remembered her mother’s letter. The one she’d nearly burned.

  Rushing into her mother’s room, she emptied all the contents of the money box onto the floor. Brusenna found the letter. She broke the wax seal. But it was too dark to make out the words. Flinging open the curtains to let in a shaft of moonlight, she tried to read it. But her hands were shaking too badly. Smoothing the paper on the floor, she crouched over it.

  My dearest Brusenna,

  If the worst happens and the Hunters find you, you must take the gold and flee to Haven. It’s the only place you’ll be safe from them. To find it, face the rising sun and sing the Dawn Song. It’s in my journal. Follow that path, no matter how impossible it may seem.

  I’m with you always,

  Mother

  For the briefest moment, Brusenna could feel her mother’s presence. Almost immediately, the feeling started slipping away. She tried to hold onto it, but it was as fleeting as a startled songbird. Sacra wasn’t here. She was the prisoner of the Dark Witch. As were all the other Witches—a whole community of Witches Brusenna hadn’t even known existed. Tears again streaked down Brusenna’s face. Flinging them away, she folded the letter and pushed it in her pocket.

  Just as she was turning to leave, a glint caught her eye. The pendant. Hesitantly, she traced the crescent with her fingertips. Making a sudden decision, she pulled it out and clasped it around her throat.

  She pulled open her mother’s drawers and hauled out a large satchel. She hadn’t had time to sew herself new clothes, so she tugged one of her mother’s heavy dresses over her head. She stuffed a second inside. Not knowing if it might turn cold again before she found Haven, she grabbed her only pair of shoes, a warm, but lightweight blanket, bedroll, flint and striker, one pot and soap. She wished she could take the time to bake travel bread, but there was no point in staying that long.

  She kneeled before the stove, wiggled the brick free and grasped handfuls of sooty gold coins. Taking her new needle, she sewed them into a hidden pocket in the satchel. Last, she stuffed food in every remaining space. Seams pulled taut, Brusenna slung it over her shoulders, testing the weight. Would it be enough? She sighed, wishing she had a horse.

  She looked around her home. “What am I forgetting?” she asked Bruke. He only looked at her with his dog eyes.

  The Dawn Song! She went to her mother’s journal and flipped through the pages. Settling down on her kitchen table, she found the song and began practicing.

  5. THE LAST WITCH

  Brusenna was slumped over, her chin bunched up on her chest, when Bruke woke her with a whine and a warm tongue. With a start, she took a deep breath and passed her hand over her face, smearing her nose with slobber. “Ew!” She wiped it dry with her sleeve and peered blearily out the window. She felt suddenly afraid. What if Wardof escaped last night?

  She rushed to the beginning of the corn row and breathed a sigh of relief to see the bundle still securely wrapped. She glanced up and saw the first hints of light on the tree tops. Dawn would be here in moments. The journal said to wait until the first rays touched her face before singing. Not wanting Wardof to hear even the slightest bit of the song, she ran to the far side of the pumpkins.

  She squared her shoulders and opened her mouth.

  Oh morning light, hear my cry,

  To Haven I must fly.

  As she sang, mist rose up from the ground. It congealed and thickened. The moment the light hit the mist, it turned golden and flashed with small sparks. Brusenna watched in awe as the mist trailed toward the northwest—the opposite direction of Gonstower. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the mist vaporized. Brusenna let out all of her breath in a rush. “Northwest.”

  To the northwest was Percha
nce, capitol of the Harden City-State, of which Gonstower was a small part. Beyond lay the next City-State, Urway, which held Nefalie’s capital, Tressalay. Beyond that, Brusenna’s knowledge was scant. She knew Nefalie was a small country, with Gonstower in the middle and it had a long coast line, though she’d never seen the sea and couldn’t imagine how tired her eyes would be if the view went on without end.

  Back at the house, she added the journal to her overflowing satchel. No sooner had she set it by the door than Bruke’s ears lifted and his growl morphed into a bark. Brusenna stiffened. The trees and brush parted. In all her life, only Coyel had openly entered the clearing around her home. But now, a horde of men emerged from the trees. She blinked in disbelief, but they were still there, lead by Garg.

  She placed a hand on Bruke’s head. “Stand down.”

  With a groan that ended in a whine, the dog sat on his haunches and glared at the intruders.

  She surveyed the men invading her fields. At least twelve of them; Garg in the lead. In his hand, the leather thong trailed behind the floating pendant. The pendant steered directly toward her. Unconsciously, her fingertips found the pendant inside her dress. Smooth and hard, it felt warm to her touch.

  When Sheriff Tomack caught sight of her, he put a hand on Garg’s shoulder and motioned to one of his men to stay with the fat man. Then, the sheriff snatched the pendant and held it in his large fist while signaling for all but two of his men to leave. Once his men had left, the Sheriff stepped closer to Brusenna. “In front of my witnesses, please describe the events.”

  Brusenna watched with delight as all but Sheriff Tomack’s face went green as she told of binding Wardof with the corn.

  He held out the other half of the amber necklace, the waning gibbous. “I figure it should be yours after the trouble Wardof put you through.”

  Brusenna studied the pendant as it twisted and twirled, catching the sunlight as it strained toward her. She’d forgotten about it until now. She reached out. At her touch, it went limp. She rubbed the stone beneath her thumbs. After only a moment’s hesitation, she eased the thong over her head. Laying them side by side, she pushed. The pieces fit together with a click. Her eyes widened as the pendant began to glow. Thin streamers of light swirled away from it. All plants the light touched grew and turned a richer shade of green. Slowly the light faded to nothing. Her heart beating in her throat, she stared at the now-full moon—nothing but a thin curving seam showed where the two pieces parted.